


Blue Threads, Azure Stitches

by Golden_Au



Series: Fragments of Forever [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Error Was Geno, Forced God Of Destruction Errortale Sans (Undertale), M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Afterdeath - Freeform, Sex, connected oneshots, unconnected oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28379829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Au/pseuds/Golden_Au
Summary: In some timelines, things are different. A glitch becomes an error, and all that holds the present and the past together is a set of strings made into desperate stitches, and a love strong enough to withstand numerous changes.(A collection of Error x Reaper based oneshots, some of which are unrelated and some that will be connected. Expect Ink to squirm his way into the stories more than once)(Note: Some of the oneshots were moved from my Afterdeath collection 1E99 (Forever), so any readers from that story may remember the first two or so stories.)
Relationships: Afterdeath-past, DestructiveDeath, Error Sans (Errortale)/Reaper (Reapertale), Error/Reaper, Ink/Error, Past Geno Sans (Aftertale)/Reaper (Reapertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale), Sanscest (Undertale)
Series: Fragments of Forever [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1384360
Comments: 37
Kudos: 110





	1. Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TKWolf45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKWolf45/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which mistakes were made.

Sometimes, he wondered how something so unnatural could still be so… so _beautiful._

Even with vision constantly blurred, the sight taken in by his eyes was breathtaking; reds that lightened into pinks, violets that bled into blues just to twist into shades of green… and all of it splattered with twinkling orbs he saw as streaks. He wasn’t fond of glaringly bright colors, but this? This he could appreciate. And maybe, just maybe, if he were anyone else, he might have even called it a sight he loved.

 _‘Love…’_ Just like that, his good mood was ruined. 

He came to this escape of his to do just that; escape, and yet here he was once again stuck mulling over that cursed word. Love. 

“Tch, what a waste of time…” he scoffed, though he wasn’t sure if he meant the concept of love itself or all the work he put into dodging paint just to come here. Both perhaps? Yeah, that sounded good. He definitely had enough anger lingering inside of him to be annoyed with both. “Stupid love,” he grumbled. “Stupid fucking _Ink.”_

Both were just so, well, _stupid._ Out of the two annoyances, Ink was especially idiotic with his… everything, really. His smile, the symbols that acted as eyes… stars, his shitty personality… all of it was just… just… “Stupid.” he murmured, uncaring of just how often he was using the word. It was a good word, after all. Very descriptive. 

Falling onto his back, he returned his gaze to the sky and tried not to focus on the sweeter, pinker hues filling the universe around him. “Stupid,” he mumbled, just for the sake of filling the silence. Yeah, definitely a good word. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”

“Y’know, Glitchy, stupid is kind of a mean word.”

The blurry stars above him gave way cluttered messages and an overwhelming rush of red. Jerking upright, he gave a curse that cut off into silence as he was forced tense and still; all movement halted aside from the twitching of his fingers.

When the moment ended and he blinked, the worst abomination of them all was found mere inches away from his face; a wide, amused grin cutting across their own. 

“Fifty-three seconds! That’s pretty short for you, isn’t it?” Ink asked in place of a greeting. Asshole. “Are your crashes getting better, or do you just like me that much?” 

Ugh, _asshole._

“Get the fuck out of here, squid.” He growled back, leaning away from the insane idiot. He didn’t want to catch his stupid. “I didn’t run circles around a shithole to lose you just to be found this quickly.”

“First of all...” Ink held up a single finger. How charming. It was the middle one. “That’s mean, Error. I know that’s kind of your shtick and all, but you can at least try to remember the names of the places you attempt to destroy. Say it with me, okay? Un-der-fell.”

Who was _this_ asshole to scold him about remembering things? Ink was the kind of person who wore sunblock because he was an idiot and forgot he didn’t have fucking skin. “Fuck. Off.” he responded in the same slow tone Ink used to name the abomination. 

Ink’s second middle finger went up. Seriously, this was the guy people depending on for protection? Pathetic. “Secondly, what do you mean you lost me? I threw you through a portal!” Smugly, the artist added, “Y’know, after I kicked your ass and all.” Fucker. 

“Bite me.” Ink did _not_ kick his ass, damnit! He had him right in his strings when a _stupid_ puddle of ink appeared out of nowhere where he planned to ste-

Error moved so quickly that all the colors in the sky seemed to meld into one unfocused mess of galaxy hues and light. When he blinked, the sky was still once more but left obstructed when Ink’s grinning face once more filled his vision. This time; however, he was looking at the artist from below. 

The… the fucker actually shoved him down! That little bitc- “Y’know, Error...” Ink murmured, sockets lidded as he gazed down at him with symbols that glittered like the stars. “...you said you didn’t ‘lose me’,” Ink smirked; amused, “just to be found so quickly. _Quickly._ To me, that doesn’t sound like you didn’t want to be found _at all._ And now? Now, you’re telling me to bite you. You got so angry at my question from earlier, but none of this really seems like the no you yelled at me.”

At the mention of The Question, Error stiffened. He didn’t want to think about it. Hell, the whole reason he went after Underfell before coming here was so that Ink would hopefully _forget_ about it. His memory was shit, after all. Usually, a big distraction did wonders in fucking with it. Usually. 

“Yeah, well, idiots see the world differently. Whatever ‘this’ seems like to you is bullshit. I said _no_ and _that’s_ your answer, squid. Don’t like it? To bad. Suck it up and fuck off already.”

“So, you don’t love me?” Ink asked, heartbreak absent from both his expression and voice. “You really don’t love me?”

And there it was, yet again. The Question. The stupid, stupid question that stupid fucking Ink asked about stupid fucking love; specifically, Error’s stupid love for him… That _would_ have been stupid if it fucking existed, that is. Which it didn’t, damnit, no matter what a certain lying snitch said.

 _‘Stupid fucking Blue.’_ Error was going to leave him in the anti-void to rot for getting him into his mess. 

“Are you dumb _and_ deaf now? I already gave you your fucking answer, squid! So get the fuck off of me and _leave!”_

“Don’t you think it’s strange that I’m on you at all?” Ink questioned, doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was blatantly ignoring Error. “I mean, earlier you yelled that you hated me—well, after you finished telling me where to shove Broomy—but here I am, sternum to sternum with you. _After_ you told me to bite you.” The artist added, eyes glittering in amusement. “Very kinky of you, by the way.”

“You fucking-!” 

“So, you don’t love me. Apparently, you actually hate me. And yet, here we are.”

“What’s your fucking point?”

“Well, first of all…” 

Error nearly bit off the finger Ink held up. Again, it was middle fucking finger. “Just get straight to your _main_ fucking point you stars damned idiot!”

“...Rude.” Ink pouted. His eyes were still amused though, because he was that much of an asshole. “Error, your phobia hasn’t acted up around me in _months._ And I know it’s been months too, so don’t even try to lie to me. I have all the different dates written down in my sketchbook!”

“Let me see.” He needed to know which one of those damn things he had to burn. 

A knowing smile replaced Ink’s annoying smirk. “As I was saying… Why is it that you can stand my touch, the touch of someone you hate, but you can’t handle Blue’s; someone you’re friends with and actually like?”

Excuses ran through his head. None of them seemed like they could win an argument. “That doesn’t mean shit.”

“Error?” 

Great, what _now?_ “What?!” he hissed. 

“You can teleport.” Ink murmured, smile wider and the amusement in his eyes finally, _finally_ gone; replaced with… lies. Fucking lies and impossibilities. “And I know you haven’t forgotten that little fact.”

“Fuck off, I’m sill tired from earlier.” Weak. That excuse was so damn weak it wasn’t even funny.

And yet, Ink chuckled. “You didn’t even get to anyone in Underfell. All you did was tear up trees and stomp through snow.”

“And kick _your_ ass.”

Ink didn’t take the bait. “Error, why won’t you just admit that you love me? I already confessed to _you,_ so it’s not like I’m going to turn you down. It’s just three little words. Four if you use my name! Here, I’ll even show you how’s it done… again!” Straightening, Ink sat back so that he sat over his hips and smiled down at him. “I love you, Error!”

_“I love you, G̵̨̛̛̲̖̟͖͉̫͂̑̽̆͋̌͝͝ͅe̵̡̛͔̠̞͓̪̾͊̅͐̑͠n̸̥̺̈́̂ơ̷̢͓̖͓͕̰͋̈́̓̋͑̐̃̓͋!”_

With a sharp crack, Error ended up feet away from Ink; wide sockets flashing wildly between his strange yet normal eyes and the crowded red of a crash. Rapidly, his fingers twitched and he curled them into fist to hide the nervous tell while fighting to breathe through the panic trying to push him over the edge into vulnerability. _‘Don’t crash, don’t crash…!’_ Not here. Not with Ink striding over with a damn worried expression on his stupid face.

“Error…?”

His phalanges wouldn’t stop twitching and the panic wouldn’t end. Stars, he hated this. He hated stupid Ink and The Stupid Question and stupid fucking love and… and… 

_How could he be so stupid? How could… fuck, how could this happen to him? He was finally happy! After everything, he was happy! And now it was all ruined because he was stuck and couldn’t find his way out. Because the multiverse was too fucking big and S̸̨̢̲̻̞̤̤̟̣̞̈́̽̊̽͋ā̵͕̎̎n̸̼͎̯͇̠̮̾̋̂͐s̶̼̫̙̩̑̓̿̽͘ didn’t do enough to convince him to stay put and simply wait for R̷̡͎̟͓̭͆̑̽̋̑̃̒̔̈́̊͑̇̚̚͜ę̶̠͗̽̓͑̾̍̑a̶̰̙͗̈̾̌͌̊p̷̘̮̋͊͗̒̚̕͝ẹ̶̡̼͇̪̪̻͍̻̱͖̈́͐̂́͊̅̓̅͂̐̕͜͠r̸̢͍̦̼̲̠̝̻̜̻̯̔ to come back for him. It was… it was bullshit! Fuck, he hated this. He… hated… he hated…_

_H̸̡͙̦̄̽̒͑͛͂͒͝ȩ̷̯̬̻̼̱͖͙̐̂̊̐ ̴̪̺͙̖͖̇̇͐͋͊͘ḥ̸͉͍̟̺͙̬͋̌͜ą̴̪͕̘̗̪̿̈́ṭ̷̹̒̆̅͒̃̄̌e̵͔̯̾̓̓͋̏̂d̵̥͌̈̈́͜ ̶̡͉̹̦̋͌e̵̛̥̋ͅ ̶̥̥̮̜͚͐͛̃̃̽͒́v̴̮̌͌ ̶̡̣̦̟͙̱̱͎̏̑ē̴̛͇ ̵̨̬̭̱̘͕́̍̚͜ȑ̸̲̇̿̄̏ ̸͇̲̌͊y̵̹̟̦̟͚̗͐̎͒̔̾͋̈́͜ͅ ̵̧̤͗́͐͊͝t̸̝͎̭̫̖̔̎̐ ̴͙͇̐̈́̄́̇h̷̢̔̈̊̓ͅ ̷̤̬̈͋͑̍i̵̙̭̲̿̕͠ͅ ̴̩̣̫͕̖̩̅̍̀̉̓͠n̵̡̥̱̋̈́͑̎ ̷̼̲̦̥̲̦͓͊̑͆͆̃̐̋g̷̢͍̙̩̯̩̣̈͆̾̆̑̅̈._

At once, all his panic turned to rage. 

With a scream of frustration, trembling tri-colored phalanges tore the tears he hadn’t noticed forming from his eyes and urged them into weapons. Ink gave an alarm shout, but it went unheard with the pounding of his soul echoing in his nonexistent ears. 

He liked Outertale. If the concept wasn’t a fucking mistake, he would have even said he loved it.

However, at the moment, all he could see as he looked around was a blur of color and glittering stars that disguised this disgusting abomination of a creation as something acceptable. But it wasn’t. No matter how beautiful the world looked, all it truly was, was another mistake. And it was _his_ job to do the dirty work and tear mistakes to pieces.

Paint dissolved the strings he sent out from his hands long before they could find a target to tear apart. The severed threads were easy enough to replace, but his anger, though useful at times, left him blind to the crimson eyed skeleton rushing in from his left. 

“ERROR!” Ink snarled, voice drawing his attention mere seconds before the artist slammed into him. “What are you doing?!”

The impact left him breathless, but skeletons didn’t exactly need to breathe, did they? Fingertips still dripping with attacks, he coiled the threads around Ink and twisted in the air to throw the artist down before they could crash into the floor. For good measure, he made sure to land on the fucker’s back. 

“I toLd yOu tO fUcK oFf! WhY cOuLDn’t yOu jUsT LiStEn?!” Everything Ink said was bullshit. He came here to escape him—both the artist and the fucking feelings Error didn’t want to talk about. “I dOn’T LoVe yOu, YoU dAmN iDiOt! I… I dOn’T wAnT tO LoVE yOu!”

Squirming in the destroyer’s threads, Ink fought to turn over so that he could at least see Error. That was stopped by the heel pointedly dug into the back of his skull to force his face into the ground. 

“Mmmer!”

He pushed his heel down harder. “YoU cAn TeLEpOrT.” he mocked, threads cutting into Ink as he tightened them. “WeLL, yOu cAn tR-”

Three of his fingers twitched when the taunt threads stemming from them suddenly went slack. What…? Fuck, was that a fucking— 

He jumped back just in time to avoid the vicious slash from a pallet knife, of all things. It didn’t look sharp, but he wasn’t taking any chances when the skeleton using it to break free from his threads fought with a giant fucking paint- and there was the damn paintbrush. 

“What is wrong with you?!” Ink yelled, face smeared with filth from his intimate meeting with the ground. Pocketing the blunt knife, he adjusted his hold on Broomy so that he could more easily pass the giant brush between hands whenever required. “You… you love this world, Error! Why are-”

“I dON’t LoVE sHiT!” Love was useless. It was… fuck, love was a mistake. A weakness, even. “EiThEr sHuT uP aBoUt LoVe oR gO tHe FuCk aWaY!” 

“No! I’m not leaving until you put away those stupid strings of you, Error! And you know what? I’m _still_ not going to leave until you actually _talk_ to me about what’s going on with you!” Symbols full of rage sampled from Ink’s mix of paint, the artist stepped forward; brush aimed at Error. “Stars, why do you even keep doing this, Error? I know you hate the multiverse and everything, but why do you keep attacking them whenever I try to talk about our feelings?! Aren’t you tired of this by now? All this destruction? All the… the pointless death that comes from your petty little fits?!”

_“You know what? If you insist on calling me that annoying nickname, then I’m going to give you a taste of your own medicine and call you by one right back!”_

_Lightless sockets watched him with a gaze he swore was full of amusement. How was he always amused? Ugh, what a bastard. “Oh? What are you going to call me? Oh! If you take request, then how about daddy?”_

_“Ew, no! That’s- what the actual fuck, D̶̢̢̡̧͉̖͉͎̭̻̼̟̫͑e̴͔̗̤̳̣̣̠̠͒͘ă̶̢̢̘͔͙͚̠̮̈́̄̐̏͗̐̓͆̓͘t̸͈͊h̷̪̹͉̱͆̃̆̒̑̌̇̎͠?!”_

_“Nope, not going by that anymore. Not if you’re going to give me my very own petname.”_

_“It’s a nickname, asshole!”_

_“Same difference~ Now c’mon, name me. I’m actually curious about what you’ll come up with.”_

_“...R̵̯̫̝̲̐̕e̶̬̮͔̐̈̓a̸̠̣̮̖̿̈͛p̸̘̉e̶̪͇̾͒ŕ̷̺̥̩͜.” he mumbles, cheek warm in embarrassment. Out loud, it sounds stupid. What kind of name is—_

_D̸̢̺̱̀̏ē̶̼̬̩̖̒̈́a̸̱̎̈͛̐t̷̠͚͇̃͋͝ḧ̵͙̪̭̰́ smiles. “Heh, I love it, G̸̪̜̙͝e̶̤̓̄͝n̴̡̓̉̑͝. Thanks.”_

And just like that, all his anger his gone; replaced with a crushing sense of loss that he doesn’t understand. Not entirely. “Ink, just… just fucking drop it.” He doesn’t say please.

Somehow, the use of the other’s name somehow manages to sound like it.

Ink must hear the same plea hidden behind his name, because he reaches for the vials across his sash. By now, he’s so quick at jumping between emotions that Error isn’t even able to catch which colors he drinks. Whatever they are, it’s enough to soothe the anger from Ink’s eyes. “No, Error.”

“You-”

“Deserve to know what’s going on. It’s… it’s my _job_ to keep the multiverse safe, Error. More than that, I should at least get a real reason as to why you won’t accept my feelings when I _know_ you feel the same way.”

“I don-”

“You do! Error, you can’t… I’m not the idiot you think I am! Just because I need paint to feel my own doesn’t mean I can’t recognize emotions! Maybe I have problems understanding all of them without help, but I… I know you love me! And I know that I love you…”

“You _can’t_ love, dumbass! Not without those fucking vials!” Ink’s love is more than just a mistake; it’s a lie. A choice that he can choose to stop at any point he gets bored. 

And Ink has a bad habit of getting bored of things very quickly.

For the first time since his arrival, the artist looks wounded. “That’s low, Error.”

“It’s-”

“A distraction, too. Maybe some part of you is worried I’d stop wanting to feel these things for you, but it’s not what you’re _really_ afraid of.”

“I’m not-”

“You _are-”_

“StOp iNtErRupTiNg mE!” He shouted. When Ink actually fell silent and remained that way, he continued speaking. “You… you don’t know shit! Not about love, not about me… and certainly not about what I fucking feel! I don’t love you, Ink! I… I don’t want to!”

“...That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Ink pointed out, voice soft and gentle in a way that made Error bristle. “Why don’t you want to love me, Error?”

“Because you’re a fucking asshole!”

_“Stars, you’re such an asshole, R̵͓̾ẹ̸̾a̷̠p̶̥̏ē̵̟ŕ̷̡.”_

_“And yet, you agreed to look at rings with me, G̷̱͎̎͊e̸̥̐̾n̷̬͇͝ō̵͉~”_

Ink’s voice keeps him from spiraling into a sudden surge of depression. “What’s the real reason, Error?”

“That’s… that _is_ the reason, you fucking idot. I don’t… why would I want to marry an asshole like you?”

Something sharpened in Ink’s gaze. “Error, who said anything about marriage?”

He froze. “I… y-you-! You want to… to….”

“Error.” He hates the way Ink says his name. It’s said perfectly, but it sounds wrong. It always sounds wrong. “I wish you would just… talk to me. Honestly. Whatever is going on with you? I want to help. You… you look like you could use some help, actually. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like a Sans who just saw their first genocide.”

Inside of him, something… shifts. It’s subtle, like a puzzle piece gently being nudged into place… but it doesn’t _feel_ gentle at all.

Ink’s alarmed expression is the last thing he sees before he’s sent into the hardest crash of his life.

* * *

_“Geno, I’m going to come back for you, okay?” Reaper says, every word spoken the intent of a promise behind it. “What you did… Stars, I’m so happy for you, Gen, but I… I need to find a way to touch you again.”_

_“You can touch me_ now, _idiot!”_

 _The sadness in Reaper’s dark eyes do nothing to lessen the love in his gaze. They’re close, but the slightest gap remains between their bodies. “Gen, we don’t know if what you did took away what let us touch. I… we could_ test _it now, but I won’t risk that, Geno. I’m not going to take chances with your life.”_

_“Reaper, please, I’m sure it’ll be fine!”_

_A gentle hand hovers over his cheek. It doesn’t so much as brush his bone. “You’re too precious to lose to chance, Geno. Somewhere out there, there has to be a way for us to be together safely. I’m going to find it, and then I’m going to come back for you. I promise, Geno, I’ll come back.”_

_He has to remove his glasses to wipe away his tears. “...You better, idiot. I’ll be pissed if you miss our wedding. And I…” Glasses back in place, he peers up at Reaper’s gentle smile. He tries to match it despite how much his chest hurts. “...I love you, Reaper. Don’t… don’t make me regret that.”_

_“I won’t, Geno. Stars, I won’t. After all...” And since he knows it may be quite some time until he sees his fiancé again, Geno closes his eyes and savors the god’s next words._

_“I love you too, Geno.”_

* * *

When he comes to, the sky above him is still Outertale’s lovely arrange of color and stars. Only, it’s blurred far worse than usual. 

A sob escapes him, and his vision briefly clears slightly when the tears filling his sockets overflow.

“Error…?”

More than it ever had before, the name sounds wrong. It _is_ wrong, but at the same time it’s not. Not entirely. He isn’t Error, but he is. He’s both Error and an error; a mistake with room for a third name. “Ink…” he chokes, tongues nearly spitting out the first syllable of an entirely different name.

He doesn’t realize he’s using the artist as pillow until Ink’s shifts and has to ease him upwards so that they can face one another. Sitting up is… hard. He feels like his dolls; like a puppet without any strings to hold him up and without the strength to brace himself on his own.

Ge- Er- He feels tired. Sad, too. And for once, he can’t find a hint of the anger usually buried beneath his every emotion. 

“Error…” Ink says. Unlike him, the artist doesn’t look sad. “Error, do you love me?” 

Softly, he admits, “I do.”

“Do you _want_ to love me?”

“I don’t.”

There’s a knowing look in Ink’s eyes. “Why?”

“...Because there’s someone else that I love too.” And then, the truths he always knew but couldn’t remember come pouring out. “Because he’s my fiancé and I… I want _him_ to love me still. Be… because loving you as well feels like a betrayal.” He’s crying hard enough that his words are starting to become too difficult to speak. “Be… b-because I… because I… I…”

“Should turn around.” Ink whispers, a small smile settled on his face. “Slowly, okay? You were out long enough for me to make more than a dozen calls. Also, we can talk about polyamory later, okay? An Error sandwich sounds nice.”

“What-”

A finger pressed to his teeth silences him. Ink’s smile is wider. “Turn around, Error.” 

When he doesn’t, confused, another voice calls out, “Turn around,” and he freezes. He… he knows that voice. For years now, he’s heard it in dreams he always forgot the moment he awoke. It sounds like… like…

Scrambling, he dug a hand into his pocket as he turned around. When his glasses settle on his face, he blinks rapidly but the sight he’s met with doesn’t change.

“Heya, Geno.”


	2. The Ghost Inside My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a voice inside Error's head. That isn't new, but this one is particularly strange.

Deep within the recesses of his mind, buried heavily beneath the rubble of fragmented memories and layers of rage, there is a voice with a tendency to whisper to Error. More often than not, the voice goes ignored for various reasons; primarily because he wishes to preserve what little of his sanity remains. There’s already so much bullshit taking up the capacity of his mind and Error has very little desire to house any more annoyances, least of all one that talks. That one little voice—the quietest of them all—can shove it for all he cares.

More than just a little stubborn, the voice remains; distant and quiet, yet demanding of his attention all the same. And yet, for all it’s insistence that he listen, Error can never truly _hear_ the words that little whispering voice has to say. There’s too much noise in his head, too much chaos, and it all comes together to muffle what little pieces of sentences the voice manages to get through the mess his skull contains. 

It’s because of this reason that it comes as a surprise to Error when he finally hears that stubborn, stubborn voice above all the other noise in his head.

_‘We’ve had worse.’_

Error, laid out in a mixture of snow and marrow, finds that the only thing he can muster up in response is a fit of dry, bitter laughter followed by a wheezing, “How?”

The question is incredulous, but an honest inquiry all the same because he truly doesn’t understand just what the voice is implying. First of all, what the hell does it mean by _‘we_ have had worse’? We? There is no ‘we.’ As far as Error is concerned, his shattering sanity can go run along and fuck itself because the last thing he needs is to start thinking there’s a person in his head who isn’t him. He has enough problems, damnit. His own damn brain shouldn’t give him more.

Then again, what does it matter if he’s finally cracked for good? The voice has been there for years, since the beginning, really , so who cares if he finally gives it attention? It’s not like he’s going to last long enough to be fucked over by a broken mind.

 _‘Heh, we always were pretty pessimistic…’_ The voice says. Now that Error can hear it clearly, he finds that there’s something familiar about it. He isn’t sure where that familiarity stems from, but there’s no denying that it’s there. Or that the uncertainty surrounding it pisses him off. _‘And angry. We were always pretty angry, too.’_

“Fuck off,” he grumbles, though he doesn’t really mean it. For all that he despises so much of what the multiverse has to offer, Error can admit that he doesn’t really want to die alone. Insanity only gives the illusion of companionship, but it’s all he has at the moment, so he’ll take it. “Let’s… let’s go back to your first statement, dumbass. What do you mean _we’ve had worse?_ In case you haven’t noticed, we’re pretty fucked right now.” For emphasis, he tries to kick his left leg.

After his screaming ends, Error decides that, that was probably pretty fucking stupid of him to do.

The voice agrees. _‘Idiot.’_

Intelligently, he snaps back with, “Fuck you.” The reply is hissed, but more so due to pain than anger. “Just… j-just answer my fucking question, shithead.” Forget dying alone. Dying with unanswered questions seems far more annoying. “We’ve h-had _worse?_ How?” 

_‘Well, maybe not an objectively worse injury, but we’ve felt pain far worse than what we’re experiencing now.’_

Again with that ‘we’ bullshit, huh? “O-oh, _we_ have, have _we?”_

 _‘You, me, we… they’re all just different words with the same meaning, in the end. Synonyms, and all that jazz._ _You may be missing a leg, and in pain, and dying, but only one of those things is a new experience for_ ** _us_** _, buddy.’_

“So what? You’re f-fuckin’ insane if you don’t think missing a leg is a big d-deal.”

_‘Says the one talking to the voice in our head.’_

“Says t-the fucking voice in _my_ head,” he growled.

 _‘I’m not sure that comeback even makes sense. Not if your goal was to prove our sanity, at least. By the way, we definitely_ are _insane, but not because we-_ you _can hear my voice. If anything, all the trauma took ahold of our minds long ago. Probably way before we were even a we.”_

“Everything y-you say is fucking gibberish. Stars, it’s worse t-than listening to the fucking squid r-rant about art. Before we were a we? T-the—” 

A wet cough jostled his limp form. The cold from the snow steadily burying him was doing it’s best to numb his… everything, but the even the intense chill couldn’t take away with pain. With a wounded noise, he clenched his sockets shut and tried to breathe through the agony. 

Once the torture passed, he rasped, “What t-the hell does… d-does anything you say m-mean? Be… before w-we were… w-were…” 

_‘A we?’_ The voice finished when yet another coughing fit stole away Error’s words. _‘It means exactly what it sounds like, doesn’t it?”_

“It s-sounds like a… a l-load of bullshit.” Like when Ink… when Ink… “...Wh...at wass I… I talkin’ ‘bout…?” he slurred, shivering as the wind blew and scattered more snow all over the place. The numbness was settling in deeper. What was once a lack of sensation in most of his body was a chilling emptiness that ate through his physical form until it reached his mind. Thinking… thinking was getting hard… “I… I dun… ‘member what I… wus… wus… s-saying…” He didn’t even know who he was talking to.

_‘...Our name is… No,_ **_my_ ** _name is—”_

From what seemed to be a great distance away, someone called out to him with an echoing cry of, “Error!”

“Stu...pid…” he mumbled, sockets slowly drifting closed. “Th...at’s… m’name, not… yours…”

_‘...Heh, it’s just another set of synonyms, pal.’_

“Error! O-oh… oh stars… Error! _Error!”_

 _‘Just another set of synonyms…’_ the voice repeated softly as he fell into the clutches of unconsciousness.

* * *

When his eyes open, the first thing Error is met with is darkness.

At first, he worries that his shitty vision has finally thrown in the towel. Then, he notices that he can see himself and proceeds to wonder if he actually dusted and the darkness around him is… what, exactly? He knows about human concepts like heaven and hell, but what lies in store for creatures such as himself? Just this… eternal darkness? Shadow damnation? Error doesn’t even know what to call the dark as fuck hellscape he’s in.

“We used to call it the save screen,” a familiar, _familiar_ voice says. It comes from behind him, but no one is there when Error spins around. “It’s not though. Not the Save Screen, I mean. You see, this place is really just a recreation. A… memory, if you will. When it comes down to it...”

Light floods his vision, searing his eyelights and forcing his eyes to shut tightly lest he go blind. After a few moments, he takes a risk and opens his sockets.

A skeleton greets him with a bloody smile. “...This is your mind, Error.”

“No.”

Startled by the response, the unknown skeleton faltered. “I’m… sorry?”

Error met his confused stare with a glower. “No. Just… no. I don’t know what kind of fucked up fever dream or afterlife or whatever the hell this is, but _no, damnit._ I’m not dealing with this bullshit. I didn’t lose my fucking leg just to-” his leg.

Slowly, he looked down. Two long legs leading down to two feet. Out of a near morbid curiosity, Error wiggled his toes and watched his left slipper move about with the motion. “What… the _fuck?”_

“This is ou- your mind, remember? Logically, you know your leg is gone. You even resigned yourself to the loss before it happened. Still, it hasn’t been long enough for that loss to sink in. Subconsciously, you still envision yourself with both limbs intact. So… here you are; an Error with two legs where in reality you only have one.”

To that, Error really only had one thing to say. Well, not say so much as ask.

“What. The. _Fuck?!”_

The other skeleton sighed, “Is that all we- you’re able to say? Fuck this, fuck that, what the fuck… honestly, have a little more creativity.”

“Fuck you.”

Another sigh. “Look, Error, you’re probably confused, so just let me-”

“Fuck off? Okay, sounds good. Now go. _Scram.”_

Unimpressed, the skeleton sighed yet again and took a few steps forward. Error meant to put more distance in them by retreating backwards, but his legs had other ideas and, before he knew it, he was meeting the other skeleton halfway across a tiny patch of grass.

“Error,” the other said, “please just… stop. You’re confused. Maybe even a little scared. I get that, Error, trust me, I do, but pushing me away because you don’t want to confront what’s going on isn’t going to work. You can’t ignore me forever, Error. The fact that we’re talking now just proves it.”

The thing is, Error has never once liked being told what he could and couldn’t do. Being crazy apparently wasn’t enough to change that, so with a bright smile and anger in his eyes, he snarled a clever, “Eat shit,” and forced himself to step back.

“...Okay pal. Have it your way.” The other skeleton lifted his hand in a half-assed wave then pressed a phalange to his thumb. “See ya the next time you sleep, bud.”

“Fuck yo-”

_Snap._

* * *

The next time his eyes open, there’s light, and it’s more than just the single beam he caught a glimpse of in his… dream? In whatever the fuck that was just now.

“Error…?”

And just like that, his fucked up dream and the annoying voice— 

_“Ass.”_

—didn’t matter. 

“Ink.”


	3. Fragments (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of something... someone... new.

He was happy.

Scarred in various ways, but… happy. 

Although marred by the violence that sprinkled his past with dust, Geno was able to move on from his little world of darkness and eternal suffering. Even though doing so often felt unbearably wrong, he was able to step beyond the save screen when given a choice: Turn away from his world and condemn it to suffer the boredom of a maniac child, or stay and wither away beneath the weight of hopelessness and despair. The adventure of the unknown, or everlasting horrors and suffocating sorrow? Selfishness or selflessness? 

Geno never claimed to be a good person, or selfless. 

When cruel hands belonging to a surprisingly gentle soul reached for him, he reached back and smiled as he was carried away from his little patch of grass and meager light. From then on, things were pleasant. Not always, but he smiled more than he cried these days and found himself content. Happy.

Yes, Geno was happy.

Until someone decided that simply wouldn't do.

* * *

It began with strange feelings of wanderlust; a desire to step away from the comfort of his home in order to explore the vast multiverse and all it had to offer. Geno continuously found his gaze drifting from whatever ought to have held his interest in order to peer out the nearest window, wondering. Considering. And yet, he knew himself well enough to understand that those feelings weren’t something he truly wanted to follow up on. As curious an individual as he could be, he was happy in his little house with Reaper and a brother related to him only through marriage in spite of the familiar face he wore.

If anything, the nursery he and Reaper discussed at the time added to his reasons to stay. Geno had enough misadventures when his attempts to repair the machine in his once-basement failed and his experience with DETERMINATION resulted in his suffering. Content with his new life, his second chance, the only big adventure he wanted to go on was that of parenthood, though it unfortunately never came to that. 

Walls painted in pastels, a list of items to buy, and not a single condom in sight during their nightly escapades… yet no results. Maybe that would have changed if Geno got to try with his husband a few more times. Surely their enthusiasm in bed would have eventually combated Geno’s low chances of conceiving with such a tiny fragment of a soul. If not, then maybe Reaper would have mothered their child if no other solutions presented themselves. The god was just as eager to be a father as Geno was, after all.

But no. No more nights were spent rolling around on the sheets and no more days began by hovering over a little stick nervously, hoping for a tiny pink plus to tell them their duo was about to expand. Maybes and what-ifs still plagued his thoughts, but cruel, cruel reality was always there to remind him of the fact that maybes and what-ifs were all those scenarios would ever be.

The more they added to the nursery and the harder they tried for children, the happier Geno got. Only, the happier he was, the worse his wanderlust became, though he didn’t understand why. It just… grew. He went from staring out of windows to daydreaming about what worlds lied in wait beyond his husband’s fantastical realm. When exhaustion from their coupling sent him into sleep, dreams of adventure awaited him, and with it: Voices. Or a single voice? He was never really able to decide. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the things that were said within those dreams. Just… feelings. 

Uncertainty, fear, denial…

...and that damned feeling of wanderlust that overshadowed all the doubts he had. Still, he resisted the urge to roam during his waking hours. He was happy, damnit. Nothing was going to mess that up. Perhaps he should have specified _no one_ as well though. Then again, what did it matter which specifications he used? Nothing? No one? Word choice didn’t matter in the end.

~~Fate~~ Someone had a plan, and ~~Geno~~ he was going to comply with that plan no matter what he had to say about it.

No.

Matter.

What.

* * *

When Reaper took him by the hand and walked through a portal that was meant to lead them to a mall, Geno followed.

The god held only air when he made it to the other side.

Geno was gone.


	4. Fragments (Part Two)

At first, he tried his best to keep track of the... days? Weeks? ...Months, maybe. Surely not years though, right? Stars, hopefully not years…

The point is, he tried. He did! But that didn’t really matter much, because his attempt was always going to end in failure. 

Here, there were no… no genocides to sloppily mark the days with. There was nothing, really. Nothing but… but this unnerving, empty _white_ for miles and miles and miles. Or, was it- was it just… _inches?_ A meter? He didn’t… he didn’t know. Fuck, he didn’t know _anything,_ because- because even when he actively tried to seek out an end to this… this damned _anti-_ void, it never even felt like he was moving. Sure, he could see himself taking steps, but there was no little patch of grass and beam of light to judge his movements off of. There was _nothing,_ damnit, so it- it just felt like running on a treadmill; no matter how fast he ran, the scenery never changed. The glaringly empty white never shifted, and it…

Fuck, it was driving him _insane._

And that… that _scared_ him. Ge… Geeeeee…? _He_ didn’t like being scared though, so the fear often settled into anger simply because that was an easier emotion to accept. Not just that, but he had a fucking right to be angry, okay? Fuck, he didn’t ask for this! He- he didn’t ask for this…. Which meant that everything he lost was _torn_ from him—Reaper, the life he shared with his husband, the… the _plans_ they had to increase the size of their family… all of it was gone now, and all because some- some whatever-the-fuck-it-was decided that they could toy around with his life! With- with his fucking _fate-_

_‘Ooo, he said it! He said it!’_

No.

_‘Wait, is it Fate that messed with him? Or Destiny? I’m confused.’_

No, no please-

_‘When does he get his strings?’_

Please, not-

_‘Aw, but I like him better as ~~Geno~~ …’_

Not the fucking voices again, please! _Please!_ “Pleasepleaseplease…!” he begs, so overcome with terror that it doesn’t even register when he begins to cry. 

Oddly enough, that seems to excite the voices, and they get louder. Fuck, there’s more of them now, too. Just… just shouting gleefully, chattering, and tossing question after question at him about his tears and if he thinks they’ll- he doesn’t even know. Fuck, there’s too much noise- too much- too much _everything_ in all of this nothing and he wants- he… he wants…!

“Reaper,” he sobs, knees to his chest and palms pressed into his eyes. He misses the dark; the- the deep, shadowy void so reminiscent of the cloak his husband wore. “Reaper… Reaper… p-please…”

_‘Wait, Reaper? No! I like him better with Ink!’_

_‘I think he’s cute with Lust.’_

_‘Nighterror all the way!’_

_‘Okay, but what about him and Fresh?’_

“...Please… find me…” he whispers, knowing that even a scream would have been lost to the roaring crowd in his head. “Re… Reaper…”

_‘Personally, I think he and Dream make a really cute couple!’_

“...save me…” he pleads. “Reaper- Reaper, _please-_ ” for a moment, his voice caught on a sob-

_‘Let’s talk about what REALLY matters, people: Is he a top or a bottom?’_

-So, he forced it out with a scream, begging for Reaper, for _anyone,_ to- to just- “Please, save me, damnit! _Save me!”_

Someone giggles, another voice coos at him, and- and the rest just… just jeer and laugh and- and yammer on as if he isn’t losing all of his hope alongside his fucking mind.

But nobody comes for him—not Reaper, not…

Not _anyone._

He...

He’s just alone.

_‘Aw, you have us though, Error!’_

~~Geno~~ Error has nothing but his own damn insanity for company.

* * *

And then, one day, someone arrives.

* * *

“Gee, this place is— _hrk!”_ A retch, the sound of liquid hitting the floor. “T-too empty, too white, I… Broomy, you and me need to-”

“...Wh… who… who are you…?”

Mismatch eyes turn his way.

* * *

In the distance…

Fate and Destiny go to war. 

* * *

“Hi there! I’m Ink!”


	5. Change Can Be Good... Very Good (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the first NEW chapter in this series of oneshots. All chapters prior came from 1E99 (Infinity).

Before they began anew, Reaper made a promise to Error that he didn’t realize would be so hard to keep: That he would love Error for he was, and not who he used to be. 

It wasn’t difficult to love Error by any means, but separating him from the memory of his past was far harder than Reaper originally expected. On the surface, there was little Error and Geno had in common— _ on the surface.  _ As they began spending more time together however, Reaper found himself noting certain commonalities between the two that, at first, he shrugged off as stubborn longing on his part. And yet, some things were just too coincidental to ignore. For all that Error seemed to be an entirely new man, pieces of Geno  _ did  _ shine through.

It was the way that Error could be so stubborn about things, and how he jumped to extremes when it came to tackling his problems. More than that, it was the way he struggled to accept genuine affection, and how he tried so hard to deny his own feelings out of self-preservation. The fear of touch that was so similar to the way Geno used to flinch after growing used to isolation, the way he spoke to thin air or his dolls in place of real companions, much how Geno used to talk to his scarf… there was a lot more of Geno in Error than either of them realized at first, and more than Error was probably comfortable acknowledging. 

Privately, Reaper found himself thankful that the destroyer was still short. Taller than Geno could have ever hoped to be, yes, but an inch or two shorter than Reaper himself, which he enjoyed. Not only was it fun to tease the other skeleton over the small advantage, but it was… nice. He liked being able to wrap the other up in a way that felt like Reaper could protect him from the multiverse; something that was needed now more than ever given Error’s reputation.

Of course, Error  _ was  _ still a changed man—literally—and there were obvious differences that even Reaper in his earlier denial of the situation couldn’t brush off so easily. Aside from the change in appearance, Error was…  _ very  _ fond of swearing. Geno was never one to shy away from foul language, but Error had a tendency to slip vulgarity into the same sentences as pleasantries. Admittedly, it was kind of adorable though. When he spoke, it was like Error was trying to distract from his own affection by tossing in insults and curses that conflicted with the stuttered pet names and rushed out compliments. Stars, he was adorable. And… notably unhinged.

The voices he heard, the fluctuating mood, the intense hatred held for what Error labeled as abominations… those were all new characteristics that weren’t easily overlooked, and what Reaper struggled with the most originally. Out of everything, the way that Error actively wanted to  _ hurt  _ in a way Geno never had threw him off badly. In all honesty, it was difficult to come to terms with because… well, because  _ that wasn’t Geno.  _ The glee in Error’s gaze when threads encased a soul, the wild, unhinged laughter, the childish tantrums when his fun was interrupted… none of that was Geno whatsoever… because  _ Geno  _ didn’t exist anymore, and the first time Reaper witnessed Error in his element was what really drove that fact home.

He was ashamed to admit just how disappointed he was back then. Worse, he angry at himself for not being able to hide it, thus inspiring a certain insecurity within the destroyer that he never wanted to create. It was that same insecurity that led to Error demanding he throw away his love for Geno in favor of the skeleton as he currently was: In favor of  _ Error.  _ And, of course, Reaper had agreed. It was… really hard, but he still tried his best to keep his promise, even when faced with moments where the present seemed to mirror the past. But he loved Error, and there was no use clinging to a ghost when his huffy, glitchy future was willing to start over. So, Reaper did his best, and tried not to make unfair comparisons.

...That being said, there was one very big difference that he found especially difficult to turn a blind eye to simply because it was so…  _ glaringly obvious.  _ Whereas Geno was often shy about their more adult activities in a very gruff, scowly way, Error was… well…. To put it plainly, he was blunt about what he wanted. More than that, he was willing to just…  _ take it.  _ And by it, Reaper meant  _ himself. _

“F-fuck…!” Reaper cried, blue threads vibrant where they strained against the white of his wrists as he arched, spine a perfect curve. “F-fuckfuckfuck— _ Error!” _

Tri-colored hands gripped his thighs, keeping them spread so much like the two thin, measly strings holding his folds open; exposing Reaper to the eager tongues plunged into his sex and curled around his throbbing clit. While the slick, magic-made muscles couldn’t quite be described as talented, what Error lacked in experience he made up for with enthusiasm, teasing and curling and thrusting  _ and  _ pressing all at once in a maddening yet pleasurable onslaught that left Reaper helpless in the clutches of The Destroyer. And he loved every minute of it.

“E-Error!  _ Error!”  _ he moaned, head tossed back and chin dripping with drool, though only some of it was his own saliva. Before dropping to his knees, Error had given him a small taste of just what his tongues could do, and how easily they could steal his breath away—literally. “Fuck, please- please I-  _ fuckfuckfuck…!” _

“You’re too damn noisy,” the destroyer complained, ignoring Reaper’s pleading wail when he pulled away from the dripping mound to speak. “Shut up, I can’t concentrate.”

_ Concentrate…?  _ Reaper laughed breathlessly, the sound trailing off into a moan when the fingers digging into his thighs twitched, and more threads revealed themselves by curling around previously untouched nipples. “S-shit…!” 

Reaper wasn’t necessarily self conscious about his feminine form, but he knew it wasn’t much to look at when compared to the formations other skeletons could make, Error included. He was thin, almost famished with the way his ecto stuck close to his ribs, and there weren't any notable curves to his form. The strength in his arms and back passed onto his current form as well, but his breasts weren’t as impressive as his masculine genitalia, and Reaper was admittedly disappointed when he first realized that. Still, the small mounds on his chest were  _ sensitive,  _ and the threads curled around his nipples did much to increase the pleasure he was experiencing though, distantly, he did wonder when Error undid the rest of his robe to access his chest at all.

“H-hey, when did-” his inquiry was interrupted by a gasping wail when fingers plunged into the wet heat of his cunt, continuing the stimulation Error stopped in order to speak.

“Noisy,” said skeleton scoffed, squeezing his thigh before that hand fell away as well. Before Reaper could make use of his limited mobility, the destroyer direct another set of strings to wind around thin ankles, spreading the god’s legs as wide as his flexibility would allow. “You’re just as noisy as the stupid squid.”

A shot of jealousy pierced Reaper’s heart. He knew all about the rumors centered around Error and the famed artist. “H-heh, am I?”

Error must have realized that something was off however, because he faltered. Then, he scowled fiercely. “Not like  _ that,  _ idiot. I just- the stupid squid never  _ shuts up,  _ even when we fight. And you’re being loud, like him. And- ugh, stop looking so dumb.  _ I never fucked him!”  _

Reaper pouted, struggling to maintain the expression when fingers kept thrusting and curling within him, working him open and inching him closer to completion. “Really?”

“Tch, idiot.” But Error nodded anyways, something tense and worried easing in his expression when Reaper smiled. Then, he continued to talk, stating bluntly, “I want to fuck you now.”

Strung up like a puppet and dripping with arousal, Reaper was embarrassingly close to losing it right then, right there at that admission. Fuck, but there was just something unfairly attractive about Error just…  _ saying it.  _ Error wanted Reaper, and he was proud to say it—filthily.

“Y-Yeah?”

Grunting an agreement, the shorter skeleton pulled his fingers free and hoisted Reaper higher. “Can I…?” Embarrassment coming through  _ now,  _ Error tugged his shorts down, his own groan merging with Reaper’s when his erection slid against his folds. “Fuck,” he panted, rocking against him just to feel the slick, easy friction against his own desire. “Fuck, that- that’s…” 

When he shifted, the head of Error’s cock pressed open Reaper’s folds, catching on his entrance, then stilling. There was a moment of silence full of anticipation, and when Error met Reaper’s gaze with a question in his own, the god nodded. Then, he cried out with a moan more like a trill when the other, shorter skeleton finally pressed in.

“Oh- oh-!”

“Fuck,” Error hissed, his hips jerking forward to fully bury himself in the god. “Fuck…!  _ Fuck!”  _

“Move!” Reaper gasped, the painful stretch much easier to bare after such thorough preparation on Error’s part. 

Thankfully, Error complied without complaint, and  _ moved. _

The destroyer was many things, but gentle wasn’t one of them. He didn’t ease into creating friction so much as he plunged head—or rather,  _ head— _ first into. With all the impatience in the world, he withdrew just to slam back inside, unashamed of the slick sound of their joining or the loud impact of ecto coming together. When Reaper shouted his pleasure, he scoffed, called him noisy, and worked to make him repeat the sound again and again and again, grunting and growling under his breath as he did so.

_ “Error-! ErrorErrorError!”  _ Arms and legs bound, Reaper had little to contribute but his voice, so when the destroyer moaned and hit home harder at the sound of his name spoken in such a filthy tone, the god continued to express himself through that simple way. “Error, please, Error-  _ Error!” _

“Shut up,” but even as he said that, Error fucked  _ his  _ god harder and demanded, “Again.  _ Louder.” _

“H-heh, but you just said-  _ Error!”  _ A mouth latched onto his chest, tongues teasing over his nipples, a fine thread coiling around his clit- “S-so good…!  _ So, so- FUCK,  _ Error!”

Already painfully aroused from the oral he was blessed with that Error followed up with attention from his fingers, Reaper found himself on the edge of nirvana far too quickly. He didn’t want what they were sharing at that moment to end, but  _ fuck,  _ he wanted to cum. More than that, he  _ needed  _ to, else he fall into a maddening spiral of unending pleasure. Although, that didn’t sound  _ too  _ bad… 

Still, “Fuck, Error, I-  _ please!” _

In response, the destroyer dragged Reaper impossibly closer with his next thrust, his mouth trailing higher to devour the cries the god made. Somewhere between the first and the sixth, Reaper was given exactly what he wanted and bit down with the force of his orgasm, causing Error to yelp and hiss in pain; jerking as-

_ Oh,  _ Reaper thought distantly, pleasure extended as warmth filled him to the brim and Error’s thrusts switched into short, jerky motions. A breathless laugh escaped him, thus releasing the other’s bitten, bleeding tongue. 

“Fuck, th-that hurt,” Error complained, but his odd eyelights were blown wide, and the evidence literally filling Reaper was damning. Without a doubt, he was still a masochist. And while Reaper was definitely fond of some of Error’s differences, he was secretly glad to see  _ that  _ characteristic remain. In fact…

“Want to go again?”

...He couldn’t wait to exploit it.

“...Sure.” With that, Error pulled himself free and directed Reaper into a new position; faced away, bent over thin air. Like this, Reaper definitely wouldn’t be able to touch him, so he’d have to wait to make use of his newfound knowledge once his arms and legs were fr—

_ “F-fuck, Error!” _

The destroyer grinned.


	6. Let's... Compromise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Error and Reaper have needs, and Ink has a solution. Oh, and Geno's there (of course).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : Sexual content.

One of the most difficult things about having something as debilitating as haphephobia was dealing with the reactions you received once the secret inevitably got out. Some were worse than others, but most tended to be… annoying. You had the irritating assholes like Killer who tried to get in close in an attempt to poke and prod, because it wasn’t  _ really  _ that bad, was it? Who’s  _ actually  _ afraid of touch? Similarly, there were the assholes like Nightmare who  _ knew  _ just how terrifying the experience could be, and decided to use that to their advantage. Nightmare respected him to some degree, but the bastard wasn’t above using his fears when he needed a quick fix. Apparently, Error’s complete and utter terror was  _ divine— _ Nightmare’s words, not his.

Arguably worse than those types of people were the ones like Blue though; the people that really, truly believed that all it took to overcome his phobia was the right kind of touch from the right person. It wasn’t malice behind his intentions whenever the Star tried to corner him, but for all the good in Blue, he was stubborn. Blue had decided that he knew how to  _ fix  _ Error, and so he would… eventually!

Tch, stubborn asshole.

The thing was, Error had  _ tried.  _ He didn’t really want to go around giving people hugs and shaking their hand and shit, but he recognized his phobia for what it was: A weakness. His response to touch wasn’t something he could control, and he usually only had so long to retreat before a crash came down on him, hard. He fought at a distance more often than not to account for his fears, but touch wasn’t something so easily avoided and… and the thought of being caught in the midst of a crash fucking  _ terrified  _ him. It wasn’t just the helplessness he faced during those moments, but it was the knowledge that the multiverse was full of enemies just waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness that made him dread the day that someone would think to use his phobia against him, and  _ succeed.  _

There were smaller irritations too, however. While the whole falling victim to someone thing  _ was  _ a real shitty thought, there were other things that made him want to get rid of this dumb phobia. Easier said than done, yeah, but… well, even he could dream. Being able to curl his hands around Ink’s neck and shake the idiocy out of him when he was being annoying was one of those dreams actually, and a recurring one at that. And, well, there were a few other dreams featuring the squid too; dreams full of… desire.

“I’d fuck you if you’d want!” Ink once said to him, and loath as he was to admit it… yeah, Error  _ did  _ want that. But desire meant shit when your own body actively worked against you. It was bullshit, really. 

But it was bullshit he didn’t have to suffer from alone.

Misery loves company and all that jazz, and in his case? Error was misery, and his company came in the form of  _ Death.  _ Apparently, the guy had issues getting his rocks off with other people too, though for different reasons. Annoyingly, Ink was the first one to make the comparison between the two. Unsurprisingly, he was also the one to come up with a “genius” idea to go about relieving some sexual tension. A compromise, he said at the time with a huge, stupid grin. And now? In the midst of that compromise being put into action? Error was left wondering how the hell the squid got him to agree to this.

He was also painfully hard.

“Ready Geno?” Ink questioned, though his inquiry was really just for show. They all knew just  _ how  _ ready the glitch was, having sat through the same… shit, how long had they been here now? Ten minutes? Thirty? Honestly, it was hard to think with clarity having long since given way to arousal.

“Just do it already, fucker!” he responds in Geno’s place, scowling.

A little ways off to his left, Reaper makes a sound stuck halfway between a protest and a plea. “Careful! Gen’s a virgin!”

“Kill me,” is what Geno himself says, though mortification swiftly transforms into pleasure when Ink catches his nod and surges forward, burying himself deep within the glitch’s weeping sex.  _ “Fuck!” _

“Fuck,” Error echoes, a hand curled around his own need.  _ ‘I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” _

He doesn’t intend to stop anytime soon though. He has  _ needs,  _ damnit! And as much as he hates to admit it…

_ “O-oh, Error!  _ Error, it’s so- so…  _ oh!”  _ Ink babbles, trying to translate sensation into words. His voice is pitched even higher than usual, and it’s breathless. “Error, Error…!”

“Gen,” he catches from Reaper, and when he glances over, he finds black robes tugged up and an eager hand around- 

_ ‘Damn.’ _

“S-shit…!” Geno curses, just as breathless as Ink. Out of them all, he’s doing the most work to hide his sounds. As such, every little squeak and curse of pleasure he can’t quite contain hits harder; hotter.  _ “...Fuck…!” _

_ ‘...This was a great fucking idea.’ _

Who knew that compromising could be so fun?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I planned for this chapter, but this definitely wasn't it.


End file.
